


Lace Exposure

by oyurio



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Hand Jobs, M/M, Older Characters, One Night Stands, One Shot, OtaYuri Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9987308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyurio/pseuds/oyurio
Summary: Otabek Altin has never seen a man so beautiful; he walked like he owned the runway, like he could take anything he wanted with ease. What Yuri wanted was him.





	

               Music resonated to his core, loud and electronic, blaring throughout the room; the beat of the drum pulsating within. It was hot below the spot lights; Otabek was close to the stage as models walked the runway, stepping almost in beat with the music. He was one of the few photographers allowed into the fashion show to snap shots of every model in every outfit from as many angles as possible. 

               For every three women there was a male model wearing one of the designers' unique outfits. Some were much more outlandish than others. The models all wore uncaring expressions, eyes fixed ahead at nothing in particular. Otabek was sure that the models would be unimpressed even if the building caught on fire. Although, one model caught Otabek's attention with his beauty, expression, and overall energy. The model looked almost angry; an obvious annoyance with everything and everyone.

               His golden blonde hair was slicked back to expose his sharp features, matching icy eyes staring forward. What he wore was equally as beautiful, definitely among one of the photographer's top five.  It consisted of a leather jacket over a deep V neck, the back of the jacket decorated in semi-precious gemstones in the shape of a dragon that's tail wrapped down one arm of the jacket. The V neck he wore was a fabric peep show, giving Otabek tasty glimpses of the smooth, muscular body underneath. His eyes matched the emeralds on the leather jacket, a feline green color that seemed unworldly. The gold rings on his fingers matched the flecks of gold in his cat-like eyes that watched the crowd, untrusting. The deep green emeralds and rubies of the jacket caught the spot lights. It made for gorgeous photos, which Otabek took many of.

               The way the model walked was powerful; maybe it was just the thick heeled boots.  The model felt like teenage rebellion personified, causing Otabek to feel rebellious just by watching him. He was the last to walk, taking his time to show off the main focus of his outfit: the jacket.

               Otabek forgot to take photos of the model's final poses, too focused on the deep green eyes that met his own. A cocky smirk pulled at the model’s lips before he made his walk back to the dressing rooms. Otabek snapped his final photos as the model walked away, the images blurry to Otabek’s disappointment.

               The man was unlike anyone Otabek had ever seen, and he worked in a world of glamourous people. The model wasn’t glamourous, yet he gave off a vibe of elitism. He was tall and slender, yet muscular. Those who dressed him with the latest designs knew how to highlight his best assets. Though from his angle, Otabek saw no bad ones.

               Otabek stood until the gathering dispersed, sitting down on a metal fold up chair afterwards. He looked through the images of the show quickly, deleting unusable photographs. He sifted slowly through the ones of the blonde male model that he lusted after, not deleting a single one.

               Once done he brought his SD card to the planner of the event, allowing her to copy the files onto her computer along with the hundreds of others from his fellow photographers. Her name was Sara Crispino, Otabek recalled, and she was a retired model with her own up and coming agency. She had offered to plan the event free of charge in exchange for publicity from the designers. Sara had been one of the first models he photographed privately, recalling her overbearing twin brother more than her.

               Sara looked very different now compared to his memories of her from their photoshoot. The once tight bun in her hair from the beginning of the night had begun to fall loose as the night wore on. She looked tired, her eyes drooping slightly as she looked at the monitor to work. The SD card was handed back with a pair of envelopes.

“Here’s your check and ticket into the after party, if you so choose to go,” Sara explained, pointing to each envelope as she said what was inside.

               The SD card was put back into the camera, the camera in turn placed back into its case. The envelope with his check was put into one of the inside pockets of his leather jacket, one well beat up and ugly compared to what the blonde model that he so admired wore. Only in his wildest dreams could he afford to splurge on something so expensive.

“Thank you,” Otabek said simply, making his way to the exit while he opened his invitation to the party. Otabek dug through his pocket for his keys despite it being a bit of a walk to where he parked.

               The ride from the event to his home was long enough, and upon arrival he found that he had just enough time  to clean up before the party truly began. After all, there was nothing wrong with appearing fashionably late to such events. Otabek typically didn’t go to such events, only making an appearance when he was low on cash and needed a place for good free good. He didn’t exactly live a life of luxury in his apartment, one that could barely not be considered a studio. Maybe he was doing this simply in the hopes of seeing that model again.

               His motorcycle was parked outside of his building as Otabek headed inside to make himself appear presentable. He changed into something more casual than a button up before he was off again on his quest to find his green eyed god.

               Despite the function being casual, Otabek was severely underdressed compared to some of the attendees who arrived directly from the show. Otabek’s eyes, however, were set on finding one of the models.

               With a complimentary cocktail in hand, Otabek wandered around the party until he noticed that unforgettable man. He was lounging in an arm chair, one leg over the arm of the chair while he chatted with a man with long, straight platinum hair.

               Judging by his clothes, the platinum haired man was well off. His royal blue silk button up and pale blue jacket and matching pants were definitely designer, not something from the racks of a mall suit store. As Otabek neared, that assumption only became a fact. Viktor Nikiforov was in fact one of the once-great models, and still was in his own way. He occasionally worked shows and advertisements that paid high enough.

“Yuri, you need to stop looking so pissed during shows,” Viktor scolded, “And sit up. If you don’t look presentable nobody will want to hire you.”

“Everyone is drunk off their asses already. You dragged me here, so at least let me relax,” Yuri shot back, slouching even more in the chair than he was before.

_Yuri. Yuri.…_ The name sounded so right to Otabek. He took a deep breath, finished off his drink before going up to the blonde who wore a too-big black band shirt and torn, tight jeans. He still had his hair and makeup from the show. As Otabek approached, green eye’s met his once again, sending shivers down Otabek’s spine.

“You looked gorgeous tonight,” Otabek complimented, though he was sure the model knew that already. He extended a hand to Yuri to shake. “Otabek Altin. I was one of the photographers for the show tonight.”

“I know,” Yuri said, unimpressed with the other’s introduction.

               Otabek was taken aback by his words, dripping with how little he cared about what he said. “If I may, I’d like to talk to you about doing a photoshoot to build our portfolios. I can show you my work from tonight as proof of what I can do without any equipment besides this camera here,” Otabek continued, taking his camera out of his bag in an attempt to convince the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

               Yuri put a hand up to stop to him. “Talk to my manager, not me. I don’t give a shit,” Yuri instructed, then pointed to Viktor.

“That would be me,” Viktor confirmed, gesturing as he spoke to attract Otabek’s attention. His eyes were focused on his phone, a finger going up to have him wait a moment while he dialed his phone, gushing to the person on the other end and telling them when he’d be home.

               Yuri rolled his eyes. “Viktor, he knows your schedule pretty well,” he said in annoyance. Viktor continued to coo his love into the phone before ending the call.

               Otabek and Viktor’s conversation regarding a trade were fairly short. They decided on three days from then at Otabek’s apartment. Yuri would bring clothing of his choice and the rest would be provided by Otabek.  After exchanging phone numbers, Otabek left the party. He stole a final glance at Yuri before finding his way to the exit.

* * *

 

               The three days could not pass fast enough for Otabek; they seemed to drag on forever. His excitement kept him up the night before Yuri was to come. Though it was going to be just a simple photoshoot, he hoped for more. What more was, Otabek wasn’t entirely sure. The previous days he found himself thinking about the man at times, Yuri just had some sort of effect on him that Otabek didn’t quite understand.

               Despite knowing very little about the other, he was excited for his chance to see him again. _Yuri Plisetsky_. The name still felt so right to Otabek. He found his name through one of Viktor’s many pages on the internet. Otabek had scrolled through every image he could find of the nineteen year old Russian model, not finding a single bad one of him. One in the afternoon could not come faster; he tried to pass the time with a good book, but kept losing his place when he would look up to check the time.

               At a quarter past one, there was a knock at his apartment door. He was up and opening the door for his guests almost immediately. Three people entered his tiny home. Yuri entered unhanded while Viktor and a dark haired Japanese man carried bags of clothes for Yuri to wear.

“Now we’ll be back around six for you, Yuri. If you finish earlier, call a taxi, on us,” Viktor informed, carrying his armload to Otabek’s kitchen counter, dumping the bags onto it. Otabek assisted the older two with the bags, saying quick greetings. He learned the name of the Japanese man; Yuuri as well.

“And you have our number if you need us,” the other continued for Yuri’s manager, putting his things down as well.

“I’ve got it. You’ve said it three times already. You aren’t my fucking parent, piggy,” Yuri snapped, through the insult held no venom, the married couple knowing full well it was more affectionate of a nickname by now. Yuri did care, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

               Otabek’s blonde god shoved the couple out of the apartment and slammed the door behind them, leaning up against it to secure the place. A moment later he stepped away from the door, pushing back his long hair that fell over of his face.

“I’m not as, what was it that you said? Handsome, off the runway,” Yuri said, joining the photographer at the counter. He leaned against the fake wood countertop, crossing his arms.

“I still think you are,” Otabek confessed after a few moments passed. It took him far too long to find those words.  “Why don’t you pick out what you’d like to model for me in and I’ll make sure the equipment is ready.”

               Yuri rolled his eyes, finding it a bit unprofessional that the equipment wasn’t completely ready for him. He sifted through his bags before finding exactly what would drive the cute photographer wild, if he was in truth attracted to him.

               In such a small apartment, it was only a matter of seconds before Yuri found the bathroom in order to change. He reemerged in something a little more revealing. Low-rise cut off denim shorts hugged his thighs, a white, deep V-neck similar to the one from his runway look was worn as well. From beneath the denim shorts peaked the clasps of garters, Yuri hiding beneath his clothing the ultimate weapon in seducing a man: lingerie. His hair was down and given a carefree bounce to it. His lips were loaded with gloss and his naturally long lashes were coated in mascara, a simple winged eyeliner accentuated his cat-like eyes. 

               The cute photographer’s mouth gaped as he noticed Yuri. It was exactly what Yuri wanted from him. Yuri noticed the photographer for the first time at the runway show, almost wishing he was the photographer so he could take pictures of Otabek. He was handsome enough to be one. Yuri had only tried to appear aloof at the after party to conceal his excitement about being offered a one-on-one with the handsome Kazakh photographer. Yuri had already asked Viktor about the photographer before Otabek even arrived at the party, finishing just minutes before Otabek came over to ask for a deal.

               To put it plainly, Yuri’s goal was to seduce the man, evidenced by the smirk that appeared on his lips as he crossed the threshold of the kitchen. Yuri stood close to Otabek, finding it adorable how he was just a smidge taller than the other.

“It was Otabek, wasn’t it?” Yuri asked, saying his name in a way that made Otabek’s heart skip a beat. In that moment Otabek concluded that Yuri was too beautiful to be legal.   


“It is,” he confirmed, taking a step back to grab his camera. “I want to start with some traditional glamour shots.”

               Yuri was guided to a small setup within Otabek’s apartment before the large windows. They offered way for a beautiful backdrop. He sat Yuri on a barstool within the setup, turning on his lights in order to get the perfect lighting for Yuri. With a bit of adjusting he was set to begin. They were silent until Otabek deemed there was enough photographs of Yuri, and there were plenty. Once the shoot concluded, Yuri proceeded to put a leg on Otabek’s shoulder, effectively stunning the photographer who had no clue of Yuri’s plans.

“Help me stretch,” Yuri instructed, though it wasn’t hard to see that Yuri didn’t need the assistance very much. Otabek was rather oblivious to this. This was an open invitation to touch Yuri however he wished in the name of stretching, but Otabek was not the bad boy he tried to dress like. He wouldn’t dare touch Yuri’s sculpted body without explicit confirmation that it was what he wished. For then, he would only help him stretch.

               Otabek followed instructions well, too well, to Yuri’s dismay. He wanted to be groped but instead he got help stretching. Yuri thought for sure he’d get a hand cupping his ass within moments of him saying those three words. He made sure this part of the photoshoot was quick, claiming he only wanted a few poses. Each one were ones that Yuri thought for sure would make the photographer blush. They then stopped for a break. Yuri was sipping at a glass of juice when Otabek made his request.

“I’d like to take photos of you on my motorcycle,” Otabek said bluntly. Yuri inhaled sharply while he drank, knowing immediately that this was his chance. Yuri wanted to see Otabek try to hide his desires before he made his move.

               Yuri knew very little about Otabek: the amount of information he had on the very private photographer was his name, his age (just over 21), and his country of origin (Kazakhstan). He knew of his work thanks to the internet and spent the last few nights alone thinking about being taken by a man like him.

“I’ll just have to change,” Yuri agreed, deciding on changing everything, down to the lingerie, to match the traditional leather style that went along with motorcycles. He wanted to look like the models on men’s calendars. Those women knew exactly how to seduce a man and Yuri would take note. Yuri dug through his bags of clothes before taking a few items to the bathroom to change into.

               He came out in tight faux leather pants, combat boots and a black tank. The strings of a thong peaked out above his waist band where the shirt didn’t cover. Yuri wanted what he wanted. It made his innocent photographer gulp. Yuri walked close to him, like before, studying his expression.

“Do you like what you see, Beka?” Yuri asked affectionately, he reached to fix the tag of Otabek’s shirt, smirking as he let the stunned man collect himself.   


“Yes,” he answered honestly; Otabek was sure Yuri would take it solely as a compliment.

“Am I straddling a motorcycle for your own personal collection?” the blonde pried, stepping away from him, innocently taking a drink of his juice. He already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Otabek confessed, eyes looking away as he fixed the longer part of his hair out of the way with a few strokes of his fingers.

               The model just continued to smile while Otabek showed him the way to the bike in question. He immediately straddled it, eyes at Otabek like he was making love to him.

“Show me what this baby can do after, Beka,” Yuri instructed as he draped his arms over the handlebars while he waited for his photographer to get ready. He wasn’t looking for an actual joy ride on the bike, but on something a bit more pleasurable.

               Otabek was staring; the way Yuri was posing was getting to him. He was nearly sure that Yuri was doing it on purpose. The first picture he snapped was all black; he left the lens cap on his camera. Yuri noticed, smirking as he waited for Otabek to compose himself.

               Yuri held onto Otabek’s waist as he started the motorcycle shortly after their photoshoot ended. Otabek had given Yuri his helmet, not having one for them both. It was a sweet gesture, Yuri thought, but not what he was hoping to get before the night ended.  His body was pressed flush against Otabek’s, hands slipping down to hold onto his hips as they slipped away from the city and into the rural countryside.

               Otabek took the longest and most rural route to a viewing area on the summit of what could just barely be called a mountain. They were the only ones there besides a family who left in their minivan just shortly after they arrived. Yuri almost didn’t want to let go, his hands moving to lightly trace the muscle under Otabek’s shirt.

“Are you taking more photos of me here?” Yuri asked, reluctantly removing himself from Otabek, getting off the motorcycle. He unclipped the helmet and set it on the seat before running his fingers through his hair to remove snarls from their long trip. He drew his eyes away from the mirror on the handlebar after a moment when Otabek didn’t answer, fingers still in his hair. There was a quick flash of light, Otabek then admiring the perfect picture he captured of Yuri. The setting sunlight caught his golden silky hair, it looked as if he was glowing like a celestial being. As Otabek gazed at the small screen of his camera, his eyes smiled wider than his lips ever could. A look of being love struck, infatuated in the highest degree. 

“Give a guy some warning,” Yuri said in annoyance, nose crinkling, expression softening as he noticed Otabek’s own. No answer yet again.

               Yuri reached over the small space between them and grabbed the front of Otabek’s jacket, pulling the photographer close to him. Yuri didn’t like to be ignored, especially in times when he was trying to get it. He pressed his lips to Otabek’s, kissing him with parted lips. Otabek was too stunned to do anything about it, eyes as wide as the full moon as Yuri’s soft pink lips pressed against his.

               His fingers loosened on Otabek’s leather jacket, Yuri taking a step backwards away from him. “Shit,” he muttered, under the assumption that the other wasn’t as interested as he. Otabek recovered from his initial shock quickly, grabbing Yuri’s hand to stop him from going any further. He drew him close again, Yuri listening to the other’s simple gesture. The moment felt slowed down for both; Yuri put his arms over Otabek’s shoulders while Otabek put his hands on Yuri’s hips. Their lips connected again, parted, a deeper emotion involved as each showed their want. Yuri moved his hands to grab Otabek’s, moving his larger hands down to cup his butt firmly before putting his arms back around him. Yuri knew exactly what he wanted from Otabek and this was only the beginning. 

               They were promptly kicked out of the park at sunset by a park ranger with a superiority complex. It was to Yuri’s annoyance that they had to leave their seats on top of a wooden fence, overlooking rolling hills and forest filled valleys. Yuri was prepared to not go down without a fight, but Otabek held him back and got him onto the motorcycle before a fist fight insured between a man in shorts and a man in faux leather.

               The night air was chilly; Yuri pressed his face into Otabek’s back to keep his eyes from tearing up with the wind as the descended the mountain. They didn’t stop until the city came into view and Otabek found someplace to dine.

               What Otabek chose was not the five star restaurants that Yuri was used to, but rather an Italian restaurant with just a hint of class. They were seated at a small table in the bustling restaurant that played too loud music for casual dining. Before dinner was even served Yuri had finished four sex on the beaches.

               Yuri had quite the skillful tongue, smiling mischievously at his photographer as he tied his cherry stem in a knot.He did each cherry stem the same way until it came to a pesky short one, but we was determined to knot every stem. With an expression that showed his determination, he set to work, looking more like he had to sneeze instead. Otabek found the quirky expression enamoring, mindlessly twirling the straw in his diet soda while he watched the other.

               Under the table later, while Otabek paid the check, Yuri texted his manager saying that he didn’t need a ride that night.

* * *

 

               Otabek’s front door was latched, just in case, or at least Otabek assumed it was as he fumbled with it. Yuri was keeping him occupied, pressing him against the door the moment it was closed. Yuri captured his lips in a deep kiss, making the real first move. Nobody would stop them. They were finally alone. Yuri wasn’t prepared to wait any longer for what he wanted. This wasn’t to say Otabek minded what happened, grabbing Yuri like he had been instructed the previous time they kissed. This time he took his time to feel the curves beneath Yuri’s tight bottoms.

               The fingers of Yuri’s right hand made his way into the long parts of Otabek’s hair, lightly brushing over the shorter parts of his undercut on the way. He lightly tugged at the long hair that were caught between his slender fingers.

               They stayed like this, slowly deepening their kisses as they became hungrier for something more filling. They stayed like this until Otabek picked Yuri up, giving into desire. Their lips hardly parted, Yuri’s legs around him as he was carried to the bedroom. Otabek used his foot to close the door to his room.

               Otabek’s bed was plush and full of pillows Yuri soon discovered as he was laid down onto a soft, puffy bed with white satin sheets. A final kiss was given before Otabek broke their kiss, removing himself from the moment to take off his jacket and shirt. They were tossed carelessly onto the floor. Yuri watched from his comfortable position on the bed, a happy smile gracing his lips as he watched him begin to strip. He whistled: he couldn’t help himself.

               It was Yuri’s turn next to begin to strip. He sat Otabek on the edge of the mattress. His boots were kicked off; they didn’t go with what he had hidden below his outfit.

“Don’t look away, Beka,” Yuri instructed, bending to kiss his lips gently. They were a darker pink now from their time lip locked.  

“How could I?” Otabek remarked. The idea of taking photographs of his subject crossed his mind, but Otabek decided against it. He wanted to enjoy the show for once, not worry about the perfect angle. Though he had concluded long ago that all of Yuri’s angles were perfect. Judging by the peaks of the black thong he had seen all night, Otabek would love what he saw.

               Yuri’s hips moved to the beat of a song that only he could hear. He started with the shirt, easily discarding it onto the floor. The way Otabek was looking at him in that moment was all the more reason to continue his strip tease. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and slowly dragged them down, exposing the delicate strings that held up his thong. The black was a stark contrast against Yuri’s fair skin, the color of fine china. As Yuri slipped off his pants fully, leaving him in only his thong, he saw Otabek lick his lips in anticipation.

               Yuri was like a delicate fairy, showing nothing but elegance as he stood before Otabek. Otabek wished his camera was in his hands once more; Yuri’s form was like that of a proper prima ballerina. Otabek had no doubt in his mind that Yuri could stand en pointe if needed be. As he watched the show, Otabek could not stop himself from admiring another feature of Yuri than what was intended. Like at the runway, he found himself studying the sharpness of the model’s face, eyes lingering on his soft, plump lips that were slightly swollen from his own playfulness when they kissed. He watched as Yuri hooked his finger under the thin band of his thong, running it along to lift the material away from his skin, all the while his arousal growing. Otabek reached forward, taking Yuri’s hand in his, guiding him close.

“Is this what you want?” He asked, not getting up from his seat on the bed, instead looking up at his long-legged beauty.

“Of course this is what I fucking want,” Yuri replied, straddling Otabek the moment he had the chance. He particularly liked the expression Otabek took on as he did so, finding it charming how color came to his face as he did so. Yuri kissed him lightly before continuing, “I wouldn’t have worn lingerie under my clothes before I changed or this lacey number unless I wanted to have it given to me, understand?”

               Otabek only nodded, kissing Yuri’s lips once again. He was sweet like nectar and tasted like summer on the tongue. Yuri’s arms draped over Otabek’s shoulders, fingers tracing his skin. Against the kiss Yuri let out a light gasp as he felt Otabek finally make a move. Otabek had cupped Yuri’s ass, taking advantage of his lack of clothing.

“Beka—” Yuri breathed out against their lips, instantly connecting them again once the name left his mouth. Again the kiss was ended, Yuri getting up onto his knees in order to undo the button and zipper of Otabek’s dark jeans. “Take them off.”

               Yuri moved off of him completely, waiting to be joined on the bed once he was done. All restricting clothing was removed in the end, Otabek finding it more humiliating to wear just boxers with an erection than to just be nude. Yuri was laid out on the bed to enjoy, Otabek losing his breath as he saw him for the first time once again.

               Yuri’s fingers were wrapped around his erection, stroking slowly as he watched Otabek, this thong around a single leg, not bothering with removing it fully. A smirk spread across his lips as he saw Otabek’s reaction fully. He knew for sure that this was something he enjoyed completely. His fingers were slick with precum, hand moving slow as if to tease himself.

“Don’t just gawk,” Yuri instructed, effectively snapping Otabek out of his trance. Otabek got onto the bed once more, Yuri moving close to him. Otabek began to leave claiming marks across Yuri’s upper body as his hand moved to slowly get Yuri off.

               Otabek’s lips didn’t last long away from the model’s lips, returning, but not before leaving signs of their night on his body. Yuri’s hands were smaller and far more delicate appearing than Otabek’s own, soft moans getting lost in their deep kisses as Yuri worked towards the same goal.

               Yuri woke the next morning to the smell of box pancakes and coffee. He had tangled himself in the satin sheets of Otabek’s bed throughout the night, but woke up annoyingly alone. He slinked out of bed, grabbing one of Otabek’s t-shirts from his dresser, pairing it with his thong from the night before to greet the morning.

               Otabek was at the stove, standing watch over the pancakes so they wouldn’t burn. Yuri wrapped his arms around the shorter male from behind, resting his head on his shoulder. He slipped his hands into the front of Otabek’s sweat pants, smiling since there wasn’t anything under them

“G’mornin’ Beka,” Yuri said, still partly asleep.

“Good morning, Yura.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be something for otayuri week for the 7th day which was fantasy/au (maybe...idk)? But I ended up being a bit late so oh well
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it regardless; any sort of feedback would make me happy!


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